They watch me, their faces inscrutable. There are six of them in the room, stationed in groups of two. Four of them sit along the wall facing me, looking across to the other two opposite them – the ones watching my back. All I see are their faces. Their heads are made of a hard polished black material, and where eyes should be is only a blank void, a band of darkness. And yet they see me. I know it. They unnerve me. Like a predator, they observe me. Carefully. Studying me, judging me, sizing me up, contemplating my every move. But I make no move. I stand completely still. Even if they don’t seem to be looking at me, I can feel that they are. They’re like silent vigils of… of what? I don’t know. Their presence feels more and more ominous. My fear grows. I must run! I stand poised, muscles tense, ready to run. I glance at the dark faces. They are still watching. I will chance it. Okay. Deep breath. Three… Two… One… Go!!

I sprint back to reality. “Get back to work,” I tell myself. I resume changing oil on the four-wheeler. Let the six black motorcycle helmets on the shelves lie.

-Giovanni